Going Home
by Saffire
Summary: AU after The Gift. After the final showdown with Glory (which I made AU), Buffy thinks she can't love anymore and leaves home. Can she return and make things right?


Buffy had seen unusually little action that night. After patrolling the cemetery for nearly six hours and getting no more than two attacks, she was really getting bored. *Time to head home, I guess.* She thought to herself. 

The slayer trudged out the gates of the cemetery and down the long, deserted street. Sighing, she counted her steps between streetlights, desperately grasping for anything to occupy her mind, except home. Her _real_ home. 

The hot August night bore down on her, the humidity thickening the air and tightening her lungs. She pulled the bottom of her tank top up to her forehead, gingerly dabbing away the beads of perspiration. *Thank God the apartment has decent air conditioning if nothing else.* Buffy mused as she unlocked the door to her most recent home. Tossing her keys on a nearby table, Buffy sank onto the sofa, absorbing the cool air of the room.

Her apartment was small and dingy, but it served its purpose for a nomadic slayer. There was a small living room, big enough for a shabby sofa and black and white tv that both came with the place. A small corner of the room served as a kitchen with a stove that seemed to work only when it felt like it, a refrigerator that kept things luke-warm, a grimy sink, and one cabinet with no shelves. There was one bedroom, which was taken up almost completely by the creaky bed supplied by her landlord. The room had a poor excuse for a closet but that didn't matter, Buffy only had a few shirts, a couple pair of jeans, and two pairs of shoes anyway. The bathroom was so minuscule that she could barely turn around in it without bumping into something. But all fixtures worked despite the occasional lack of hot water. And the cockroaches didn't complain, so why should Buffy?

Glancing at her watch, the slayer noted that it was almost five A.M. *Bed time.* Grabbing a quick, cold shower, Buffy pulled on an old t-shirt and climbed into the rusty bed. It creaked as she lay down, and every move she made to make herself comfortable resulted in a loud racket. 

Thump, thump, thump. "Keep it down up there!" Thump, thump, thump. 

"Sorry Ms. Kirpatrick!" Buffy called down to her agitated neighbor below. The thumping against Buffy's floor and Ms. Kirpatrick's ceiling ceased and the slayer drifted into an uneasy sleep.

"What do you want?"

"The same thing you do."  


****

"Okay. What do I want?"  


****

"To kill them. To kill them all."

"Why else would I come here? For the sun? I came to meet the renowned killer."

  
**"**Yeah, I prefer the term Slayer. You know, killer just sounds so..."  


"Naked?"

"Death is your gift."

"Death?"

"Is your gift."

"I guess that means a Slayer really is just a killer after all."

****

"Hey. Flower-gettin' lady. Want me to pick Dawn up from school? Mom? What are you doing? Mom? Mom? Mommy?"

"She's cold."  


"The body's cold?"  


"No! My mom! Sh-should I make her warm?"

"I'm counting on you to protect her."  


"'Til the end of the world... even if that happens to be tonight."  


"Buffy. Buffy, sweetie. Buffy." The gentle, familiar voice called through the mists of her dreams. 

"M-mommy? Is that really you?"

"Yes, sweetheart. It's really me." Joyce Summers gently caressed her daughter's face. "Listen to me Buffy. I don't have much time. You can't keep running from your problems. Face them."

"It's so hard. I…I can't do it. I can't face them without you. I'm alone. I'm all alone and I miss you so much."

"I miss you too. But I'm still with you. Go back, Buffy. Your family needs you just as much as you need them." 

"But I can't go back. I can't love them. I'm just a killer. I'm just a killer." She chanted as tears streamed down her face. 

Joyce gazed down comfortingly at her and shook her head. "No. You're so much more. The love you're meant to find has always been right under your nose. Go to him."

"Him? I…I don't understand."

"You will, my dear. You will. I have to go now, Buffy." Joyce gave her daughter a hug, smiling sadly as the sobbing girl clung to her desperately. 

"Don't leave me. Please don't leave me." 

"I never have and I never will." And with that, she was gone.

Buffy awoke with a start, tears soaking her face along with the usual perspiration that she always had after her dreams. The sheets of her bed were twisted and tossed about, half of them pouring onto the floor. She wrapped her arms around herself, clinging to the last fading memories of her dream. And then, after a year of repressing the memories, she allowed herself to remember her last night at home. 

__

One Year Earlier

"You'll pay for this!" Glory screamed, her angry, frustrated tears mixing with the blood smeared across her face. "This is NOT the end!" 

The Goddess' features melted to form the familiar male face. He collapsed in a heap on the concrete, moaning in pain. Glory's words echoed in Buffy's mind. Now that she was permanently trapped on earth, the slayer knew that the goddess' efforts would be focused on her and her family. Spike reached a comforting hand out to rest on Buffy's shoulder. She covered it gratefully with her own. "I know what I have to do." She stated, her eyes not leaving Ben's body writhing on the ground in pain.

Spike studied the slayer. He knew the seriousness of what she was implying. Taking the life of an innocent was something not to be considered lightly by the slayer. "You don't have to do it, luv."

"Yes. I do. She'll never leave us alone now. She won't rest until we're all dead and then who knows what carnage she could inflict on the rest of the world." Spike considered her words and knew she was right. He also knew how it must be tearing her up inside. "Death is my gift. Hmph. The slayer's just a killer after all." 

Buffy lifted her only weapon, the troll hammer and landed the fatal blow. Immediately she let the weapon slip from her fingers and drop to the ground with a loud clang, causing her to jump. Tears spilled down the slayer's cheeks. Judging from the way she was standing, Spike realized she was about to tumble to the ground and caught her just in time. 

He held her up, preventing her from falling and was surprised when she wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her face into his chest and sobbing. "Shh, pet. You had to do it. Shh. You did the right thing." He whispered as he stroked her hair.

**

"Where are you going?" Dawn asked as she and the other Scoobies watched the distraught slayer frantically stuffing clothing and weapons into two duffel bags.

"I'm leaving."

"Duh. Where?"

"I don't know yet."

Spike stepped into the room. "Don't go, luv. We need you here."

"No. You don't." Buffy looked up into his deep blue eyes. "Protect them. You're the strongest one here now." And with that, she left.

Buffy knew what she had to do. Reaching under her bed, she grabbed her two black duffel bags. Pulling on a pair of faded cut off shorts, a t-shirt, and her worn out tennis shoes, she quickly stuffed her remaining clothing into one duffel bag and gathered her crossbows, stakes, axes, and daggers, stuffing them into the other bag. 

*Goodbye, Alabama. Hello, Sweet Home California.*

Buffy stared at the large sign reading "Welcome to Sunnydale." And considered pulling a Spike and running over it with her car. Thinking better of it, she shut off the engine and climbed out of the parked car, hopping up to lie across the hood. 

The stars in the night sky twinkled down at her, their bright light shining against the dark heavens. She gazed up at them, trying to find patterns or pictures. Instead she found courage in the lonely lights glistening down on her- courage to face what might prove to be her greatest challenge yet- going home. 

She lay there on the hood of her car, peering up into the night sky for she didn't know how long. Momentarily, she considered just getting back in her car and driving like mad away from there. But her mother's words echoed through her brain, anchoring her to her purpose. *Maybe I won't speak to anyone. Yeah. I'll just check up on everyone from a distance and then make my way back out into the world. Go to New Orleans like I'd planned. Yeah. That's what I'll do.* Jumping down and getting back in her car, Buffy sped down the street into Sunnydale. 

Everything looked pretty much the same, with a few exceptions. There was a new jeweler's where her mother's art gallery had been. A few new gas stations had been added along with a new grocery store. Buffy passed by the Magic Box, noting the sign in the window advertising a sale on chicken's feet. 

She drove to the cemetery first. To her surprise, she was not attacked as she made her way through the headstones to Spike's crypt. *He should be out now. I'll just take a look around.* 

Buffy didn't know why she came here first. Yes she did. But she didn't want to admit it. In her year's absence, as much as she'd tried to forget this town and everyone in it, thoughts of Spike constantly drifted into her contemplation. She knew she felt for him. She knew it before she'd left. But she had long ago determined that the slayer was merely a killing machine, incapable of feelings of true love. Her humanity was no more real than Dawn's. She was a concoction created by the Powers That Be to serve their purpose. So, although she had come not to doubt the sincerity of Spike's feelings for her, she had concluded that she, as the slayer, could never fully return them. 

Standing at the door to the crypt, Buffy reached out with her slayer senses. No. No one was inside. Sure that the coast was clear, Buffy pushed on the heavy door. It didn't move. *Weird.* Putting forth a bit more effort, Buffy was finally able to pry the door open. As she entered, her breath caught in her throat. 

The air was musty and thick. It almost choked her. *Maybe I'm in the wrong crypt.* Buffy wondered as she surveyed the room. No. There was his old tv. She was in the right place. She walked over to the set, observing the thick coat of dust covering the screen. In fact, everything had an ample amount of undisturbed dust on it. Looking frantically, the slayer found no signs of vampire dust, to her relief. Taking one last look around, she turned and headed out the door.

Buffy reached over and turned down the volume on her blaring radio as she turned onto Revello Drive. Tears began to form in her hazel eyes as she passed the familiar houses and she forcefully held them back. 

She parked her car several yards away from her house and sprinted the distance. As she approached her old home, she noted Spike's old Desoto sitting in the driveway. *Curiouser and curiouser.* Stealthily, she climbed the porch steps and made her way to the window she knew looked into the living room. 

The light and tv were on and Dawn was sitting on the couch. Buffy gasped. In just one year, her sister had changed remarkably. Her long brown tresses had grown darker, almost black and had been cut off into a mature looking, chin length bob with auburn highlights. Dawn's usual cutsie t-shirt and jeans were replaced with a crimson tank top and tight black leather pants. Overall, she had an appearance of maturity and strength and it suited her. 

*Well, some things never change.* Buffy thought to herself as she noted that Dawn was busily chatting away on the phone while she painted her nails a deep red color. The slayer had to clamp a hand over her mouth to prevent herself from crying aloud in shock when Spike entered the room. He stared at Dawn pointedly and motioned to his watch. The teenager looked up at him with patented, pleading, puppy-dog eyes and he wavered momentarily but remained unmoved. He shook his head 'no' and Dawn reluctantly hung up the phone. 

Spike had not changed. He wore his usual tight black pants and t-shirt and Buffy assumed that his precious leather duster was still part of his limited wardrobe. His hair was still peroxide blonde and his eyes were an even more penetrating blue color than Buffy had remembered. 

Just then, a car pulled into the driveway causing Buffy to rush around the side of the house. She watched from her hiding place as Willow, Tara, Xander, and Anya poured out of the car and literally ran up the steps, bursting through the front door. 

"Don't you wankers ever knock anymore?" she heard Spike say through the open door, though his name-calling sounded good-natured and friendly.

"Who's got time for knocking? We've got trouble." Xander stated, panting.

Spike audibly sighed. "What is it this time?" 

"No time to stand around and explain. We'll tell you when we get there." Willow said. "Right now, we need weapons. Big ones."

"Nibblet, I believe that's your territory." 

"Right. Gimme two minutes." Buffy could hear Dawn's retreating footsteps and a few minutes later, her returning footsteps. "Ok, I got four little axes, two big axes, one really big axe, and two crossbows but one of them's mine. Who wants what?"

The clanging of metal could be heard as each member of the group grabbed their weapon of choice. Then they clambered out of the house. Willow and Tara carried two little axes each, Xander had a big axe, Anya had a crossbow, Spike carried the really big axe, and Dawn followed with her crossbow. *They're letting her fight? What are they thinking?* 

Willow, Tara, Anya, and Xander climbed back into the car they'd pulled up in and Spike and Dawn hopped into the black Desoto. *I guess I'd better follow them.* Buffy thought as she dashed to her own car.

"Red, if you accidentally conjure up any more demons in doing your little spells, I'll bloody conjure _you_." Spike shouted as he swung at the multiheaded demon with his axe. 

"I said I was sorry!" Willow called from where she stood, battling one of the creature's tentacles. 

"Can we please," Chop. "talk about this," Chop. "some," Chop. "other," Chop. "time?" Xander shouted as he tried to sever one of the heads. 

Buffy watched the battle with interest from her hiding place under a grove of trees. She was surprised at how well they were fighting, especially Dawn. Her little sister was busily battling hand to hand with a vampire that had stumbled upon the team. She was landing punches and kicks left and right and looking as though she was thoroughly enjoying it. 

"Nibblet, stop playing with it already! Just dust the bloody poof!" Spike called. Dawn tackled the vamp and straddled it, frowning. 

"Oh well. It's been fun." She stated as she fired her crossbow, reducing her 'playmate' to dust beneath her. Tara tossed her an axe and the teen eagerly joined her friends in battling the demon. 

  
Spike and Xander had already succeeded in severing eight of the ten heads and Willow, Tara, and Dawn had chopped off all but one tentacle. It was then that Spike noticed a bright red spot on the otherwise green chest of the creature. "Anya! Fire here!" he called, motioning to the spot. 

Anya grinned, happy to finally be of some assistance, and fired, hitting her mark with deadly accuracy. The demon let out a pained wail as it's body split violently down the middle, sending Spike, Xander, Willow, Tara, and Dawn flying away from it. In the center of the cracked carcass sat a small creature resembling a dragon. It growled ferociously and scampered off into the cemetery. 

"That was so cool." Dawn stated, ignoring the blue goo she was covered in. 

"I'll catch that little lizard thing." Spike said, running in the direction it'd gone. But Buffy had beat him to it.

When the creature had dashed off, Buffy had followed, drawing her dagger from its holster around her calf. With her slayer speed she quickly caught up to the demon, and slashed it open from horn to claw. 

In her haste, she did not notice Spike run up behind her and freeze as he caught sight of her. "Slayer?" the word came out as a whisper and Buffy whirled around to face him. "Slayer? Is that really you?"

She nodded. "Yep…really me." *Oh that was lame.*

Just then, the rest of the Scoobies ran up, and their reactions were much the same as Spike's. Willow's eyes were misty as she ran up to her friend, throwing her arms around her. "Oh my God, Buffy! We were so worried! Where have you been?" 

"Do you want a list?" Buffy chuckled. In the past year she had been to so many cities she couldn't count. One by one, each Scoobie approached and gave her a hug. It was nice to feel loved again. 

Spike hesitantly pulled her into his arms. She reveled in the closeness and scent of him- cigarettes, cologne, and _cookies_?- for a minute. "Missed you slayer." He said shortly before moving to give Dawn her turn. 

But the teen merely stood, arms crossed, glaring at her sister. "You left." She stated simply.

"I know. I'm so sorry, Dawnie." 

"You left." Tears formed in her eyes. "You didn't tell us where. Or how long or even why. You just left." Silence. "Why'd you come back? You think we need you here? You think we want you here? We've been getting along just fine without you. So why don't you just disappear again?" Dawn turned and ran, ignoring the shouts the Scoobies' made. 

"No. Let her go. I understand. I'd react the same way. What she said was true. She has a right to say it."

"No, luv. It wasn't true. We do need you and want you here." Spike studied the slayer for a moment. "Are you staying?" 

"Um…no. I was just passing through. I didn't even mean for you all to find out I was here."

"You were just gonna leave without saying anything? Again?" Willow asked fretfully. Tara wrapped her arms comfortingly around her. 

"Uh, yeah. Geez, it didn't sound so horrible in my head." 

"Will you stay the night at least? It's awful late. Wouldn't want to be on the road at this hour if I was you." Spike said. Buffy began to object but somehow her mind said 'no' and her mouth said 'yes'. "Great, come on then." 

Spike fumbled with his keys to unlock the door. He stepped inside, shrugging off his duster and tossed it on a chair. Suddenly, a thought occurred to Buffy. "You know, I should probably just go to a motel or something. I mean…Dawn won't be too thrilled about me being here…especially since I'm not staying."

"Dawn's not here. I mean, I can't hear her heartbeat. She's probably gone to one of her friend's houses or something." Spike stated. "You want something to eat?"

Buffy's eyebrows raised in surprise and she nodded, following the vampire into the kitchen. "Do you usually react so calmly to not finding Dawn at home?" 

Spike chuckled as he surveyed the fridge and Buffy made herself comfortable on a stool at the island in the center of the kitchen. "After about the twentieth time it happened, yeah. I got used to it. How about some made-from-scratch pancakes?"

"Sounds good to me. Aren't you kinda afraid that she might not be at a friend's house? That she could be hurt?"

Spike sighed. "Slayer, lil' sis is pretty grown up since you last saw her. She's had to deal with a lot- your mum's death, the whole Glory thing, you leaving, and just general living on the Hellmouth, which, I tell you, is enough to give a teenager gray hairs in itself. But it's all merely served to make her stronger. She can take care of herself."

"Why do I get the feeling that I'm not being told something? And just why is it that you're living here instead of one of the living members of the Scooby Gang?"

"After you left and we realized you weren't coming back, we all sat down and had it out over who would take care of Dawnie. It wasn't pretty. Took about three hours of arguing to finally decide to leave it up to the Nibblet. So she picked me. Don't ask me why, cause I don't bloody know. But I never questioned it and I think we're rather happy with our situation." Spike took down a mixing bowl from a cabinet and walked around the kitchen, gathering ingredients. "And as for your feeling of not being told something…you're imagining things. You want chocolate chip pancakes? Those are Lil' Bit's favorite."

"Yeah, sure. And I'm not imagining things. Spike," Buffy reached out and grabbed his arm, staring intensely up into his eyes, searching for truth. "Tell me." she demanded firmly.

The vampire avoided her gaze. His shoulder's slumped a bit as he relented. "Ok, ok. What are you, a bloody clairvoyant?" He cracked two eggs into the large mixing bowl on the counter. "About a month after you left…Nibblet started showing signs of…well, being not normal. I mean, more 'not normal' than being a supernatural key thingy anyway."

"Define 'not normal'." 

"We were in the Magic Box one day…I was working out a bit in the training room and she was in there with me, supposedly doing her homework. But then I heard her scream. I turned and she was standing by one of the axes, been messing with it when I told her not to and had cut her hand. Split it open, real bad like. I rushed her out to the car, almost getting a nice tan on the way out. But by the time we got to the hospital, she was almost completely healed." Spike paused to study Buffy's expression of disbelief. "She's got slayer powers. Healing…strength…skill…stamina…she's got it all."

Buffy's eyes were wide. "The monks made her outta me." she mumbled, piecing together the puzzle in her mind.

"Only makes sense then, doesn't it? That she should have these powers." 

Buffy nodded, speechless. Coming out of her state of shock, she regained her voice. "So what else has happened that I should know about? Other than the fact that you've somehow learned to cook."

"I'll have you know I've been a bloody fabulous cook now for several decades!" Spike declared defensively. "Never thought I'd have to do it though." Spike poured the batter into a pan.

"I'm sorry." Buffy suddenly stated. 

"For what, luv?" 

"For everything. For leaving…for being a major you-know-what to you before I left…for sticking you all with Dawn."

"No apologies necessary, pet. I right like looking after lil' bit." Spike was silent for a moment. "But…if you could…call us occasionally…so we know you're alive."

"You got it." Spike smiled as he turned around, presenting the slayer with a plate of delectable looking chocolate chip pancakes. She dug in hungrily, devouring them in minutes. So intent on eating, Buffy didn't notice the vampire's concerned gaze until she was finished. "What?" she asked defensively.

"When's the last time you had a decent meal, Slayer?" Buffy was silent, her face turned away guiltily. "How do you expect to keep your strength up if you don't bloody eat?"

"I eat! Just…I…uh-"

"Don't play games with me. You low on cash?"

Buffy turned on him angrily. "I'm doing just fine on my own! I have money!"

"Oh, is that so? Then why is it your wrists are about as wide as a-" He leaned over the counter and grabbed her wrists to demonstrate but found himself confronted with something he never thought he'd see on Buffy Summers. His eyes widened as he gazed down at the stitched up slits on her wrists. 

She jerked her arms back, cradling them to her body. Spike's chiseled jaw tightened and his fists clenched and unclenched. He leaned on the counter and stared at the floor, biting back his rage. He pounded the counter top as his demon flashed across his face. "Spike…it's not what you think." Buffy said desperately. "It…it was…uh…a vampire…I didn't-"

"Do NOT lie to me, Slayer!" Spike shouted so vehemently it caused Buffy to jump. He met her frightened hazel eyes with his angry blue ones. What happened to the slayer he had known and loved? The trembling girl in front of him was a shadow of her former self. The Buffy he knew was strong physically and emotionally. The Buffy he knew wouldn't have ever even considered taking her own life. And the Buffy he knew wouldn't have been standing there, frightened of him. 

Spike ran a hand through his bleached hair and fumbled for a cigarette in his pocket. He lit one, feeling his nerves relax and he calmed visibly. He glanced at Buffy once more before strolling into the living room and plopping down on the couch. 

The slayer followed him. She leaned against the doorway, watching as he took a long drag from his cigarette and lazily blew the smoke out. He turned the cigarette around in his fingers, studying it. "I shouldn't be doing this. Nibblet hates it when I smoke in the house." The vampire leaned over and extinguished it in a nearby ashtray. 

"Why?"

"Doesn't like the smell, I suppose."

"No. Why haven't you asked me anything? Why haven't you asked where I've been? Why I left? What happened to my wrists?"

"If you wanted to talk about it, you would. I didn't want to nag you about it. Bloody Scoobies'll probably do enough of that. Figured you'd talk when you felt comfortable enough."

"Oh."

"Feel comfortable enough yet?"

"No."

"Ok then."

"Ok."

Silence.

"Want to watch tv?"

Buffy nodded and Spike patted the spot beside him on the couch. The slayer sat down next to him and watched as he slowly flipped through the channels. "Geez, slow much? Do you have to stop for ten minutes on _every_ channel?"

Spike chuckled. "Now I know where she gets it."

"Huh?"

"Nibblet's the same way. She doesn't stop for more than a second on each channel. Don't know how she can tell what's on. Doesn't really matter though, cause all she watches is Mtv anyway."

Buffy made a face. "And you let her watch that crap? I mean, she's old enough and everything but for you to have to suffer through that…I figured you'd have exercised your parental authority on it by now."

"We've come to a compromise. She suffers through one hour, I suffer through one hour, and so on."

"You don't make her watch Passions do you?"

"And what's so horrible about Passions? Your mum liked it well enough!"

Buffy's face fell. She had forgotten her mother's love for the cheesy soap opera. A wave of other suppressed memories washed over her and she felt hot tears brimming in her eyes. * No. No. Not here. Not now. Not with him.* Buffy fought to control the teardrops unsuccessfully. She felt Spike's arm curl around her and pull her to his chest where she gave up her proud battle and sobbed.

"That's it, luv. Let it all out." 

How long she cried, she did not know. But she knew that when the tears finally stopped, she felt that a burden had been lifted from her. She felt lighter. "Spike?"

"Yes, pet?"

"I feel comfortable enough now."

"So then I headed to Montgomery, Alabama and then back here." Buffy concluded her long list of cities she'd lived in. Spike had sat through the whole thing, listening intently. 

"That's a lot of cities, luv."

"Yeah…how many was that?" Spike furrowed his brow and began to count them in his head. 

"I've counted fifteen."

"Are you sure? It seemed like more. Let's see…Los Angeles, San Francisco, Seattle, Denver, Las Vegas, Roswell, Dallas, Little Rock, Chicago, New York, Richmond, D.C., Miami, Atlanta, and Montgomery. Yep, fifteen."

Spike glanced hesitantly at her wrists. He reached out, gently taking them in his hands and tracing the stitches with his fingers. "And where did this happen?"

"Montgomery." Buffy was silent for a moment as fresh tears welled in her eyes. 

"You don't have to explain."

"Yes. I do. I mean, I want to. I need to." Buffy stared down at the long scars. "In Alabama…I'd hit rock bottom. I was working in a club…real sleazy joint. It was strip club." She felt Spike tense and watched as he fought the demon flickering across his features. "I-I wasn't a dancer. I was a waitress. Which…perhaps is just as bad…or worse. When you're a dancer…you're safe on stage…away from all the drunken, groping jerks. Fondling is kept at a minimum. When you're a waitress…you're in the thick of it. And the outfit…or pretty much lack-there-of didn't help. 

"I kinda got a reputation as having a quick temper…wouldn't tolerate much. So basically my pay and the tips I got weren't as much as the others who were more…tolerable. I could just barely afford my little, grubby apartment. Then everything just started to pile up around me. Bills, slaying, emotions that I kept bottled up with no one to talk to…it all was stacked so high around me and one day it fell…trapping me. I couldn't deal. I put on my favorite outfit…left a nice little note…and cut." Buffy's eyes grew foggy as she related the memory. "It didn't hurt. It was peaceful…relaxed. I just lay there on the dilapidated old bed and waited for death to come knocking at my door. When I heard the knocking it scared me. I hadn't expected death to literally walk up to my door and knock. 

"I dunno…I was pretty out of it and didn't realize what was going on. Turns out I was a week late with my rent check and it was my landlord banging on my door. He found me and called 911. Guess he didn't want there to be a suicide in his stupid slum of a building. Bad rep and all that. But he's the reason I'm sitting here right now."

Buffy looked up to find tears streaming down the vampire's face. He pulled her in his arms, hugging her fiercely. "Do you regret it? That he found you, I mean?"

Buffy pulled away, considering his words. "Yes. I do." Spike tried to conceal the hurt and anger he felt at her truthful reply, but his demon visage betrayed his feelings. Before he could speak, Buffy began her explanation. "I'm just a killer, Spike. I realized that the night I murdered Ben." Spike flinched at her use of the term 'murdered'. "When I was in the desert, the guide told me death is my gift. I didn't accept it until that night. I know now that I can never truly love anyone. I don't want to live like that. I want peace." 

Spike's features melted back to their human form as he gazed into the slayer's eyes. She really believed what she was saying was true. So many emotions wracked his body- anger, sympathy, love, frustration. He grabbed her by the shoulders, demanding her attention.

"You listen to me, Slayer. You are NOT a killer. You are NOT a murderer. What you do, is not because of some sacred duty. You do what you do because you care. You care for your family, your friends, and the whole bleedin' world. Do you think you would have lasted this long otherwise? You CAN love. You love more than anyone I've ever known. And in a hundred and some years I've known my share."

Buffy shook her head. "No. My nature is to kill. I am cold and unfeeling because of that. Any love, any emotion would just come in the way of my sacred duty. I sent the man I loved to hell…I murdered an innocent…because that's what I do. Duty above everything else."

Spike cupped her chin with his hand. "Buffy," he said her name purposefully, attaining her full attention. "What your nature is means nothing. I am a vampire. My nature is to be evil…to kill and torture humans. I don't have a soul. I'm not supposed to be capable of love. But I am. I can love. And you know how I know that? Because I love these bloody mortals more than anything. Nibblet means the world to me. Red, Tara, Anya and the Watcher are like family to me now. I can even stand the whelp but if you tell him I'll flat out deny it. But most importantly…I love _you_."

Tears spilled down Buffy's cheeks and Spike reached out to gently wipe them away. Then, for the first time in a year, Buffy truly smiled. Her tears weren't ones of sadness or frustration, they were of happiness. She felt accepted, wanted, loved. It would be a long while returning to her old self. Maybe she would never fully revert back. Maybe she was changed for the better. But whatever it was, however long it took, Buffy decided to stick around with those who love her while it happened. 


End file.
